


Christmas with the Devil

by a_denim_wrapped_nightmare



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Demon Deals, Demon Shane Madej, Fluff and Angst, Holy Water, M/M, POV Shane Madej, Protective Shane Madej, Shyan Secret Santa 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_denim_wrapped_nightmare/pseuds/a_denim_wrapped_nightmare
Summary: Shane's a demon. Not that he wants you to know that. And he doesn't really want Ryan to know, either, given his partner's well-documented fear and hatred towards all things demonic. Which is why he plays the role of skeptic to Ryan's believer, all while secretly keeping Ryan safe from the various ghouls they encounter when filming Unsolved.Then Shane finds out that one of Ryan's best defenses against demons isn't actually as effective as they previously thought. And he decides that it's up to him to make sure Ryan can hold his own against demons - even if it means literally going to Hell and back.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 14
Kudos: 533
Collections: Shyan Secret Santa 2019





	Christmas with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this fic a look! 
> 
> Special thanks go out to @randomfandomwriter on tumblr, whom this fic was written for! Your prompt struck me with a wave of inspiration the likes of which I haven't felt in ages, and I can only hope the end result is what you wanted. 
> 
> Happy holidays to all, and may 2020 bring good tidings for the lot of us!

“Alright, I’ve got something called a spirit box here, and it’ll give you a chance to talk to us.”

“So if you want to tell Ryan just how much you hate this little noise machine, and you _will_ hate it, trust me-”

“Don’t listen to Shane, he’s an asshole.”

“Now’s your chance to speak for all of us and get him to stop bringing it every- AAH!”

A blast of concentrated static shot its way through the room before settling down into something loud but not quite so ear-piercing. 

“Again, my name’s Ryan.”

“I’m Shane.”

“Can you say our names back to us?”

 _Y’know,_ Shane wanted to say, _they’d probably find this whole ‘say our names back to us’ thing patronizing. Plus, why are we asking for our names? What about their names, Ryan? I want to know what the ghosts’ names are._ He didn’t say it, of course, but the want was still there. And with the box blaring as it was, Ryan might not even hear him. For such a jumpy little guy, Ryan wasn’t as aware of his surroundings as you’d think. Otherwise, he might have noticed the man standing in the corner. 

He was fuzzy, as ghosts tended to be. He was dressed in a business suit, complete with a bowler hat. It was hard to tell, but he seemed to have a brown mustache. He faced the spirit box as it buzzed on. 

_“-SSSS-WIE-YOU-SSZZTT-ZZDDSS-TTKKZZ-HEER-KKTTSS-”_

“Why are we here?” Ryan repeated. “Uh- to find you, to talk to you. Can you tell us why _you’re_ here?”

The spirit box just kept on spitting out noise. 

“What happened to you?”

_“-ZZZZ-KKZZTT-HELL-PPZZTT-”_

“Did he say ‘hell’ or ‘help’?” asked Shane. Ryan shrugged. 

_“-TTTT-ZZTTKK-NO-ZZ-FUNEE-BISNESS-SSKKTT-JEFF-ZZTTSS-”_

Ryan’s eyes widened, before scrunching nearly closed from laughter. 

“No funny business?” he repeated. 

“Jeff!?” said Shane. “Oh my god, there really are mobsters here!”

They kept trying to get responses from the box, but nothing human-sounding came out again. Apparently the ghosts (if those voices were from ghosts - Shane still wasn’t sure if the spirit box worked as advertised or not) had tuckered themselves out already. Which left just the ghoulboys, the crew, and one probably-very-confused ghost man standing around listening to a radio scanner, until Ryan finally turned it off. 

The spectral guy in the corner didn’t seem to care. He stayed as he was: quiet, and blurry to such an extent than even a demon eye might miss him if they passed over him too quickly. Shane winked at him; he responded with a long, long moment of silence, before slowly fading into the wall. 

Now, ghosts weren’t the only things said to haunt this place. Shane was reminded of that when he and Ryan ventured into the basement, the site of demonic rituals - or at least that’s what the rumors said. 

“So this is where- it’s gone now, but allegedly, there were summoning circles on the floor in here. And people used them to try and bring demons into this plane of existence.”

“Hm,” said Shane. “Standard horror movie fare.”

“Y’know, I’ve always wondered what the cultists got out of these things. Like, in horror movies at least, demons just make everything worse. You summon them, they wreck shit, you probably die, rinse and repeat with the next guy.”

“Well, demons make deals. That’s how they work. You summon a demon, make a deal, and eventually the demon gets its due.”

“Yeah, and the deal involves selling your soul.”

“Not always!” said Shane, his mouth running faster than his brain. 

“What makes you so sure?”

“I mean, if demons are real - which they’re not, but _if_ they were - there’d probably be a lot of them out there. They’ve got plenty of different demons in the literature, right?”

“I haven’t looked into demonology all _that_ much, but yeah. There’s a lot of names in the old books.”

“So surely some of them would want things other than human souls. Like, I dunno, money or trading cards or something.”

“What would a demon do with money?”

“They’d exchange it for goods and services, Ryan.”

“Exchange it for people’s souls, maybe.”

“C’mon. You can’t think that every demon out there is an evil monster out to get you.”

“But I can. Because it’s true.”

Shane stifled the lump in his throat with a quip. 

“That’s racist. Demon-racist. Demonist.”

“Well, it’s a fact. All demons are bad news. That’s how demons are. And that’s why I only do one a season. Or two, if a movie studio throws money at us." 

“See? You can sell your soul to people, too.”

“Okay, touché.”

“Or, in this case, to corporations. Which are legally people, right?”

“Look, I’m stressed enough as is, if I think about the politics of corporate personhood much more I might just snap.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, this is where the old owners supposedly summoned demons. And it’s a hot spot for paranormal happenings. EVPs, cold spots, even some full-bodied-”

“Apparishes,” said Shane, in the goofiest low voice he could muster. Ryan didn’t look impressed. 

Yeah,” he deadpanned. “Okay. I think we can… I’m going to regret this, but I think we should try and talk to the demons.” He took a deep breath. “If-”

“Demons?” Shane called out. “It’s us, ya boys!”

“Dude.”

“What? I’m talking to them.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be that forward, you’ve got to be more formal-”

“Demons! Rumor has it you’ve infested these premises. But I think that’s a load of bullshit!”

“Sweet jesus,” said Ryan, already facepalming. 

“If you’re really here, come out! Show yourselves! What are you, feckless cowards? Ryan, I think they’re cowards.”

“I’m not getting involved with his shit,” said Ryan, his hand still covering what was probably a disappointed-but-not-surprised look on his face. 

“Scratch me! Rip my beating heart out and show it to me!”

As usual, nobody took up the offer. 

They set up the flickering flashlight and the spirit box again, but didn’t find anything interesting. Even Ryan seemed to be getting bored. 

“C'mon. We’ve got more things to check out.”

“Alright. Well, you had your chance to kill us. Guess you’re too much of a wimp to take me and Ryan on.”

“Well, if they do try to take on Ryan Bergara, they’ll have to take on- THIS!”

With a speed Shane didn’t know he had, Ryan pulled his holy water pistol out from its holster, pointing it right at his unsuspecting friend. 

“Jesus,” said Shane, hoping the nervousness didn’t come through in his voice. “Have you been practicing with drawing that thing?”

“You can never be too prepared when you’re dealing with demons. Gotta be on your toes.”

“Well, if you’re not tip-toeing you won’t be tall enough to see them.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

Shane smiled as Ryan put the gun back. The little guy was so proud of his toy, it was downright adorable. Especially since it wasn’t entirely necessary. Even if an aggressive demon did show up, Ryan didn’t really need the holy water; Shane was a tough enough denizen of the underworld to hold his own against most demons in a fight. Assuming he couldn’t intimidate them into playing nice beforehand. 

He was counting on the intimidation factor, to be honest. If he brandished his horns and scared an imp or two away from Ryan, that’d be that. But if he had to fight in front of his human friends… well. Cat’s out of the bag at that point. There’s no restoring a friendship when your friend learns you belong to a species he invariably hates. 

“Did you just hear something?” Ryan came to a standstill, listening. 

“Hear what?”

“Shh.” He stayed silent for a few more moments. “Thought I heard something scraping.”

“Scraping?”

“Yeah, down the hallway.”

Ryan pulled the holy water pistol back out, starting a trek through the hallway to wherever he heard the sound coming from. It was this sort of bravery that Shane admired about him - venturing forward even when he thinks there’s danger ahead - and Shane wished he could have some of that courage sometimes. Both when it came to facing other spirits and when being around Ryan. 

Much as he hated to admit it, he was a bit afraid of that little water gun. It couldn’t _harm_ him - not in a permanent sense, anyway, if holy water worked how he’d always been told it did. But it could _hurt_ him if Ryan ever pulled the trigger. Worse still, it could be a dead giveaway of Shane’s true identity. It’s not like humans double over in pain when you splash clergy-approved demon-be-gone juice on their faces. 

“There it is again,” said Ryan. He paused in the middle of the hall. His flashlight shone on the wall, as some objects in between the beam and the bricks left distorted shadows on the white, cutting across the- wait. One of them wasn’t right. 

One of the shadows moved. It wasn’t a shadow at all. And as it inched its way through the light, Shane could make out curved protrusions on what looked like a head, and bigger protrusions behind it. Wings and horns - a demon was afoot. And Shane stared in horror was it stretched a clawed hand out towards Ryan. Shane flashed his horns at it - the shadow froze, then retreated. 

“I swear, it was coming from down here.” Ryan looked into one of the open doors at the hallway’s far end. “Someone was moving a chair around or something.”

“You think the demons are getting their feng shui on?” Jokes always calmed Shane’s nerves just a tad, and if there was a handsy demon in here with them, his nerves needed a good calming. 

“Oh my god.”

“Satan’s fixing up the living room, as Satan is wont to do.”

“You’re suggesting that the spirits and-or demons here are in a Beetlejuice situation where they hate what’s been done to the place since they died?”

“Y’know what, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I guess if somebody messed with my stuff after I died, I’d be kinda upset.”

“Ooh, don’t touch my stuffed Paddington!” said Shane, in a mocking high-pitched tone. “Don’t touch my precious furry son!”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Not even a little poke?”

“I don’t like where this is going. You better not touch my boy.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ryan! He’s only a bear, not like he’s dangerous or anything-”

Something cold and wet hit his face. Before he could lift his hand to wipe it off, he noticed Ryan’s water pistol, pointed straight at him. His brain caught up to his eyes. 

_Fuck._

“We’re not having this stupid argument again, Sh- Shane?”

He was frozen in place. It was all over. His worst nightmare realized. This was it. The end. He was being found out, Ryan was finding out, he’d be cast out to Hell just like every other demon who tried to make something of themselves upstairs and he’d never get to see Ryan’s beautiful face ever again and… wait. Why didn’t this hurt? 

The water just felt like water. Wasn’t it supposed to burn him? Why wasn’t it burning him? Or stinging, or irritating, or causing any pain whatsoever? Wait - did this mean his secret wasn’t out? 

“You there, man?”

That snapped Shane out of his thoughts. Ryan was staring at him, brows furrowed and brain surely getting suspicious. 

“How dare you,” said Shane. He put on the best fake-crying voice he could muster, pretending it was all a matter of offense. “I thought we were friends.”

“You deserve it,” replied Ryan, picking up on the joking tone. “Dick.”

He moved on to another room, leaving Shane to slowly follow behind while wiping the water off his face. 

He didn’t understand it. Holy water was a demon’s poison ivy, their nettle hairs, their burning acid. Their salt in the wound, if salt wasn’t already stingy to their touch. So why wasn’t Shane in pain? He wasn’t a small-fry demon by any stretch, but still, he should have been hurt. But if he wasn’t special, was the issue with the water itself? 

The question burned in the back of his head as the investigation slowed and they began setting up for the night. 

“Hey Ryan,” asked Shane as they rolled out their sleeping bags, “where’d you get that holy water, anyway?”

“Uh, just this church in town.”

“You went to a church while we were here?”

“No, I mean back in L.A. That’s where I usually go to get it.”

“Oh.”

Whatever Ryan had, it wasn’t the real deal. It was possible that this was a priest pulling a con job, or maybe he just didn’t know how holy water worked. All Shane knew was that an angel had to bless water to make it holy. Whatever ‘blessing’ meant to them. Point was, Ryan was armed with an ordinary water gun. And that wouldn’t mean squat against demons. 

And Ryan didn’t even know. There was a lot he didn’t know about demons. He probably didn’t even know they had to sleep, too. It didn’t work quite like human sleep, but when you’re keeping up a human appearance and living a human lifestyle, you’re going to start becoming diurnal. Shane could already feel his eyelids yearning to be closed as he and Ryan settled in and shut off the lights. 

But before he let sleep take him, he looked back at Ryan. The little guy was facing away from him, and Shane couldn’t tell if he was slipping into sleep or not. Knowing Ryan, his eyes were probably wide open, mind jumping from one wild idea to the next. Shane wondered what it was like in there sometimes. What was going on in that head of his, where all his passions and fears and hopes melded into one mosaic of a person? And - this was a selfish thought, he’d admit - what did he think of Shane? How did he perceive his friend? Shane had put on a likeable persona, hadn’t he? 

Well, it wasn’t all persona. Most of the time, he told Ryan the truth about things. He really did love popcorn and really didn’t care for sports. And he really did care about Ryan. A lot. He didn’t lie when he said they were friends. Truth be told, he’d be happy if he could just keep Ryan and that wonderful smile and bright eyes of his safe and… okay. Maybe Ryan was a bit more than a friend to him. Nothing would ever come of it, and Shane was fine with that. Totally, absolutely fine. 

It was fine. 

Because the odds of Ryan accepting those feelings weren’t great. It’d make things awkward. Probably not to the point of ruining their friendship, but enough to change it in a way Shane didn’t want it to change. And even if it didn’t, and all their feelings worked out, lying about his species to a boyfriend would just feel… wrong. More wrong than hiding it from a friend. 

Then again, lying to Ryan was still wrong. This was his best friend, someone who trusted Shane, and here Shane was, spouting falsehoods on a daily basis. Pretending to be something he wasn’t. Even when he tried to act like a human, he was still following that classic demonic M.O. of lying to get what you want. Ryan didn’t deserve this. He deserved the truth. But Shane couldn’t give it to him without giving up the closest human connection he’d ever found. 

He could picture it now. Ryan’s smile vanishing into screams and shouts. Crying out for a ‘real Shane’ that never existed. Forcing him into the same sort of exile that his fallen ancestors endured all those ages ago. The thought of it hurt him, and he suddenly realized that his eyes had begun to water. That was another thing Ryan probably didn’t know about demons. Sometimes they cried. 

There was a soft moan from Ryan; next thing Shane knew, the little guy had rolled over, half on top of him. For a moment, Shane didn’t move a muscle. But then he let himself relax under Ryan’s warm weight. From his breathing, Shane could tell that he was more or less asleep. Slowly, ever so slowly, Shane wrapped his arms around Ryan, pulling him close. For protection’s sake, obviously. To put himself between Ryan and the other demon. (That’s what Shane told himself, at least.) And maybe, to some tiny, limited extent, he did it for the sake of just plain holding this adorable little human. 

* * *

Ryan looked up from the monitor to see Shane offering him a coffee. Ryan accepted. He was going through the footage from their latest shoot, looking for whatever scraps of supernatural evidence he could find. The sheer dedication of it all boggled Shane’s mind from time to time - he wouldn’t think much of it most of the time, but on occasion he’d stop and suddenly realize _oh shit, my friend is an insane man and I love him for it._ But he wasn’t about to stop joshing the little guy. 

“You find any spooky specters yet?”

“Still looking.”

Shane couldn’t see what Ryan was looking at from where he was standing, as the computer screen faced away from him. Not like he was keen on helping Ryan search for spirits anyway. If Ryan saw anything, he’d show it to Shane. If he heard something, they’d both listen to it in the sound booth soon enough. 

“So are you all set with holiday shopping?” asked Ryan, taking off his headphones. 

“Yeah.” It was mostly true - though the Hotdaga t-shirt he’d bought for Ryan still hadn’t arrived, and with Christmas being so close, he was starting to get nervous. “You?”

“Almost.” He put the headphones back on, but before he could press the play button, Shane spoke up. 

“It’s less than a week until Christmas.”

“I know.”

“You can’t procrastinate this like you did with the scripts for last season, Ry’.”

“Or like how you’ve been procrastinating the Hotdaga for over a year now?”

“First off, ouch. Second off, I’m making sure it has a satisfying end.”

“And that’s why I’m taking my time with shopping. I want to make sure I get the right thing.”

“Well, as long as your present to me isn’t from an occult shop or anything, I’ll be happy.”

“I’m getting your present from an occult shop now.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Ryan could barely contain his chuckles-bordering-on-giggles when Shane spoke in that faux-serious tone. His smile lit up the room in a way Shane could never get enough of. He was sunshine in human form, a veritable… wait, was his smile fading? 

“Ryan?’

Yes, his smile had faded. He leaned forwards and stared at the monitor, squinting at something there. He mouthed something Shane couldn’t make out. 

“You see something?”

After a long pause, Ryan leaned back and sighed, shaking his head. 

“Uh- no. Thought I did, but I don’t think so.”

“Want me to take a look?"

“No, I- you wouldn’t- there’s no point, it wasn’t anything.”

“Alright. If you say so.”

Ryan deciding that something wasn’t supernatural - now that was a rare treat. It was, dare he say it, a Christmas miracle. Though Shane wondered what sort of thing could make Ryan think ghouls were afoot in the first place. Just because Shane knew ghosts and demons were real didn’t mean that he thought every creak and groan of a house was because of them. Most of the time, it really was just the wind. 

When he came back to Ryan a few hours later, Shane found that his friend had taken a break from going through the footage. Instead, he was going through tab after tab of search results for occult shops in the area. It took Shane every ounce of willpower he had to prevent himself from either kissing Ryan or punching him in the face at that exact moment. 

* * *

Shane was leaning towards his bathroom mirror, knife in one hand, sharpening his horns. It took work to keep these things in peak condition. This was self-expression; you couldn’t do much with wings or tails, but horns? People put time and money into making them look as intimidating as possible. And if the distinct lack of other demons managing to lay their hands on Ryan was any indication, Shane had it down pretty well. 

But - an inkling of dread nagged at his insides at the thought - it wouldn’t scare off everyone. Not every shadow would retreat when he showed them off. And if he did have to fight another demon, even if he won and kicked its ass back to Hell… he didn’t want to think about what Ryan would do. And maybe Ryan would be right about him. Here he was, hoping that Ryan wouldn’t be afraid of a demon when he himself was scared of what a demon could do to Ryan. 

If only that holy water was real, things would feel okay. Ryan would be safe and the knot in Shane’s stomach wouldn’t be there. If Ryan could fight off demons on his own, Shane wouldn’t have to get involved, and he’d never have to reveal anything he didn’t want Ryan knowing. He’d have to hope Ryan never jokingly turned the gun on him again, but still. A safe Ryan makes a happy Shane, and right now neither of those things were guaranteed. 

Wait. Hell had magical items. Some of which could hurt demons. And Shane could go to Hell and get things there. 

He might just be onto something. 

He put the knife away, opening his medicine cabinet and grabbing a vial. He dipped his finger in it and drew his signature on the mirror. The liquid began glowing a fiery orange, starting in a circle shape before expanding to the edges of the mirror. The reflective glass turned black, then turned into the image of a station, with demons running about from portal to portal. Shane clambered onto the sink and went through the portal, landing on the other side. 

Home sweet Hell, here he was. 

He made his way out of the portal station, walking into the streets of Hell. The roads were full of demons of all shapes and sizes. Imps scurried around the hooves of half-animal demons and fallen angels stretched their ancient wings out in the dry air. Lining the streets were rows and rows of old buildings. Shops among them. And so, Shane’s journey began. 

The first store he walked into sold household utilities. All well and good, but nothing he found made for particularly good demon repellent. But if the Hotdaga shirt wasn't in soon enough, maybe he could get Ryan a novelty spatula. 

The potion shop looked promising at first. But when Shane went through the place, it became apparent that it wasn't going to be of much use. Especially since a solid chunk of the potions that hurt demons also happened to hurt humans, and sometimes humans got the rough end of the stick with them. Wouldn't work. Better move on. 

He knew the record store wouldn't have anything protective or whatnot. But Shane did like to go there sometimes, if only to look around. It was nice to relax among all the homey landscapes on the death metal album covers. They wouldn't be good gifts for Ryan, though; he wasn't much of a vinyl guy. Besides, knowing Ryan, he'd probably end up playing them in reverse and finding the backwards easter eggs more pants-shittingly terrifying than quaint. 

The pet store was much the same, but he didn’t even bother going in there. Even demons knew that getting pets as surprise gifts was never a great idea, much as the hellhound puppies in the window tugged at his heartstrings. Getting a black cat was an even worse idea; Ryan was allergic to those things (assuming they were actual cats and not familiars looking to get an apartment without paying their share of the rent, the little freeloaders). 

After searching for longer than he had hoped, he finally found a place that sold weapons; _The Infernal Armory,_ it was called. But as he found out rather quickly, none of them were inconspicuous. There were spears made to replicate the most popular style used during the war, there were guns retrieved from historical battlefields, there was even ammunition made from salt. Those last things would be helpful if 1) the boys weren't based in California, and 2) if Ryan was just casually fine with carrying an _actual_ pistol around. No, he needed something that wouldn’t hurt humans in the slightest, but be hard enough on demons for even the most aggressive among them to leave Ryan be. Like holy water. 

For some reason, it was only now hitting him that such a weapon might be hard to find in a realm whose biggest demographic was demons. And maybe a place with a famous grudge against angels wouldn’t readily sell products that had anything to do with the “bright-winged bastards”. 

Shane was running out of options, running low on time, and his legs very much wanted to be done with walking for the day. He collapsed onto a bench, and sat there, staring up at the limestone sky. 

Maybe he really would settle for the novelty spatula. Ryan could beat the shit out of demons with it, he half-joked to himself. He was a strong guy. Y’know what, forget the spatula. Just let Ryan’s disconcertingly strong arms punch angry demons into submission. Aw, _fuck this,_ this sucked. Was he just supposed to hope that no demons picked a fight with Ryan from now until… well, whenever the show ended? They’d had a good track record so far, only needing one good flash of Shane’s horns to keep things quiet, but could he really expect that good luck to last forever? How long until Murphy’s Law caught up to them? How long until something, demonic or otherwise, forced Shane to reveal his horns to Ryan and-

“By Sally!”

Shane jumped at a voice behind him, flipping around to see a demon standing just behind the bench. The only adjectives his brain could assign to the stranger were ‘grey’, ‘thin’, and ‘smiling’. 

“Why, if it isn’t Shane Madej! That is what you’re going by these days, is it not?”

“Uh… yeah.” Shane managed to catch his breath back. Now he could think of more adjectives, like ‘weirdly enthusiastic’ and ‘top-hatted’. “You know me?”

“Of course!” said the demon, waltzing right up to Shane. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself, Mr. Madej. You might not be a Pazuzu, but you’ve worked up a respectable reputation up on the surface. You and that little human of yours - oh, how charming he is!” 

“Oh. So you’ve seen the show?”

“I’ve seen enough. I do say, you look exhausted, Mr. Madej. Might I ask what brought you here today?”

“I, uh- I was just looking for something. Just a gift.”

“Ah, yes.” He twirled a long wooden staff in his hands, one with a translucent sphere on one end and a coloring that matched the greyscale hues of his tight-fitting robe. “The winter holidays are already upon us. What sort of festivity is it for, then?”

“Um… Christmas, I guess?”

“Hm. I’ll take a gander and say it’s a human you’ve got in mind, yes?”

“Yeah. I’m getting something for my…” Well, if this guy knew the show, he knew about Ryan. “My friend.”

“I see. Well, come right along! I do believe you’ll find the perfect gift for your surface-dwelling companion just this way!”

The mystery demon began strolling down the road, looking behind him in waiting for Shane to follow. At first, Shane didn’t budge. Something was _off_ about this demon. Well, more off than was typical for denizens of Hell. You didn’t get this chipper tone very often. Shane’s gut told him to say no and walk away. 

But his heart remembered Ryan. So he started following along. 

The demon took him down alleys within alleys, as the people passing by their sides came fewer and farther between. At one point, without Shane realizing it at first, they entered a winding tunnel made of stone on all sides. Only torches and the odd glowing quartz embedded in the rock lit their path forward. 

Eventually they came to a dead end in the form of a door. It was framed by rotted-looking wood on its sides and a sign above that read _Vass’s Anomalous Emporium._

“So are you-”

“Just call me Vass, Mr. Madej. Owner of this humble establishment.” 

He tapped his staff on the ground, and the door creaked open. Shane tentatively followed Vass inside. And what he saw was… a lot, to put it mildly. 

The shop had items in every place an eye could look. Shelves full of crystals and books covered the walls, or at least the parts that weren’t already holding ornate mirrors. Table after table of bottles and cases full of gold-colored weapons filled the place. And hanging from the ceiling were a range of charms and censers. It was overwhelming. 

As Vass went to the counter and dusted something off, Shane took a closer look at one of the bookshelves. He pulled out a tome, finding a symbol in place of a title on its cover. 

“Like what you see?”

Shane jumped at the voice, right behind him again. Damn, this Vass guy was sneaky when he wanted to be. 

“Well, there’s a whole lot more where that came from! We’ve got precious gems, elixirs, all manner of corporeal and semi-corporeal items. Shadow cloaks, horn ornaments… but that’s not what you’re after, is it?” 

Shane wasn’t sure how to respond. Vass kept going. 

“You’re in need of something Hell doesn’t have. Something a demon couldn’t expect to get their hands on without pain of the utmost magnitude. You want a slice of heaven.”

“I- what are you saying?”

Vass simply smiled, walking over to a small, nearly-empty table with a cloth covering something in its center. He pulled the fabric off, revealing a single glass bottle underneath. A worn label on its side said it all: _GENUINE HOLY WATER._

“Taken straight from the Jordan River. Blessed by the highest powers water can be blessed by. Not some cheap priest’s product, not a mislabeled novelty, not even a tingle-inducing sample of salt water. One drop of it can burn. A good spill’s worth could send just about any demon squealing back to the underworld.”

The bottle, sparkling in the candlelight, just about hypnotized Shane. This was special. Powerful. You'd think that a demon shouldn’t have been able to get it. 

“What… how’d you-”

“A business trip, Mr. Madej. Call it a souvenir. And it just so happens that this week only, this fine little item is on sale! For just a small fee, it can be yours. And should you choose, your friend’s. Your partner would appreciate something like this, I believe.”

Okay. This was freaky. But also a miracle, which - well, those didn’t exactly happen much in Hell. This was exactly what he needed, what Ryan needed, and it was right here in front of him. 

“How much is it?”

“It’s priceless, Mr. Madej.”

“Wha- wait. I thought you said it was for sale.”

“Oh, but it is! It just so happens that the price tag isn’t in silver or gold.”

“I’m not selling any souls for this-”

“Oh, no, no, no! You needn’t pawn any spirits for this fine bottle, Mr. Madej. No, there’s a better trade I’ll accept.”

A better trade than souls? What kind of demon was this guy? 

“I have a son back home. He’s a wonderful child, Mr. Madej - take a look, I’ve got a picture right here.”

He swept his staff across the air, leaving an image in its wake. It looked like a black-and-white photograph of a small angel-winged demon child, sitting atop a two-headed dragon much like a human baby might lay on a large dog. 

“He’s precious, is he not? Ah, but not everyone sees his magic like we do. The other demons his age laugh at him, taunt him. He hasn’t got horns, you see. The poor boy simply hasn’t been able to grow them. All the other little imps have stumps at the least, but my boy’s been made a target.”

Shane nodded along. Kids could be cruel. 

“There’s nothing more I’d want than to make my boy happy. I’d make a donor of myself if it’d help, but I must confess, my own pride is…” he pulled off his top hat to reveal two small, almost dinky antlers underneath. “Lacking.” 

He sighed as he put the hat back on. 

“I’ve been looking for someone with the horns my boy deserves. And by the Fates, it seems I’ve found them.”

The pieces clicked in Shane’s head. And before he could get a word out, Vass continued. 

“Big enough to be intimidating, not so big as to be top-heavy. Carefully sharpened to a point and polished to a shine. I don’t think there’s a pair of horns in Hell more perfect for my boy than yours.” 

“I...” started Shane, getting more uncomfortable by the moment. “I don’t think I…”

“And besides, don’t you spend all your time on the surface anyhow? You’ve clearly done a good job keeping your semi-corporeal parts concealed from humans so far. Why, they wouldn’t even know anything had changed.” 

He did have a point there. Shane’s relationship with Ryan couldn’t be affected by something that Ryan didn’t know existed. If anything, getting rid of the horns meant having one less body part to keep hidden. But it was still a body part. You don’t get rid of those on a whim. All those years spent taking care of them, and he’d just throw that all away? 

“They’ll grow back, right?”

“Why, of course! I only ask for reasonable trades, Mr. Madej. All it’ll take is a few short years, and then your horns will be back to normal.”

That was somewhat reassuring, Shane supposed. But a few years was a long time. Maybe not to older demons, but to Shane? It was a commitment. He couldn’t stay on Earth for all that time, he’d have to come back to Hell now and again for family gatherings and the like. What would other demons think? Just how awkward would it get at the dinner table? 

And worst of all; how would the demons he and Ryan come across on location react to it? Without his horns, Shane’s down an intimidation method, and he and Ryan are that much more in trouble. Then again, if Ryan had real and effective holy water by his side… did he even need Shane’s protection? Wouldn’t the holy water be even better against a demon than another demon? Wouldn’t Ryan be able to hold his own even if Shane was out of the equation? 

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Madej?”

Well. If it made Ryan safer, then Shane’s mind was made up. 

“Deal.”

He took Vass’s outstretched hand, and everything went black around them. Sparks flew around their hands in glowing circles as the world grew blurry and Shane began slipping out of lucidity. _Did I fuck up?_ He thought. And as if he read Shane’s mind, Vass said:

“Oh, Mr. Madej, I think both of us are going to be happy with this.”

Shane snapped back to awareness. His hand was free, and Vass’s held two horns. Shane’s horns. In his other hand, he held out the bottle. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Madej,” he said, pushing the water towards Shane. 

Shane resisted the urge to feel his head, taking the bottle and leaving. 

* * *

The demon staring back at him in the mirror wasn’t the monster he’d grown to know. He was a tamed bull, a neutered threat. Where he once had horns, now he only had two flat stumps. You couldn’t rip a sheet of paper on them, much less silence a demon. If anything, they’d come out of the shadows to tease him over it. It’d take years for them to grow back - how many haunted locales would they visit in that time? 

He took his eyes off his reflection. Sitting on the sink counter next to him was the holy water. This was what he needed. It was fully corporeal. It was useful. It was for Ryan. 

Assuming that it worked as advertised. And after striking that deal, it better fucking work. Shane took it into his head to test the stuff out on himself. 

He grabbed an eyedropper, carefully opened the cap, and took the smallest amount of the water from the bottle. He squeezed a single drop onto the skin on the back of his hand and- _AAAGH!_ FUCK! It felt like getting stabbed by a searing-hot pin. As he hissed and tried not to shout, he wiped the water away (smearing the pain over his other hand in the process, way to go Shane), noting that it left his skin red for a brief moment before returning to normal. 

Well. That had to be the real deal. 

Shane _carefully_ put the cap back on. He’d have to find a bag to put the bottle in. And a metric shit-ton of tissue paper to pad the bag out. He was not having this thing crack on him. Or Ryan. But especially not him. Because Shane may have been raised in a literal pit of fire and brimstone, but he was not a fan of pain. 

It was a good sign, though. Shane couldn’t imagine a demon who wouldn’t be screaming in pain after getting a face full of that. This was worth it. It felt like a part of himself had been ripped out, sure. But Ryan was that much safer. 

Shane’s phone burst to life with its ringtone blaring. On the screen was Ryan’s name. Shane picked up. 

“Ryan?”

_“Yep, the one and only. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing. That and talk about when the Christmas gift thing is supposed to happen.”_

“Uh- okay. We can do that through text, though.”

_“Yeah, but right now I'm driving, so-”_

“Oh.”

_“Gotta keep my eyes on the road. I, uh- I found this place that had just the last-minute gift I was looking for.”_

“Was it an occult shop?”

There was a pause, followed by a sigh. 

_“Yes.”_

“Is it for me?”

_“I'm not telling you shit.”_

“So it _is_ for me.”

 _“Shut up, Shane.”_ Not even miles of distance could hide a smile that Shane knew was there. _“Uh- ‘Amy’s Metaphysical Materials’ is what it's called. It's a… it's a weird place, I can say that much.”_

“It's an occult shop, Ryan. Of course it’s going to be weird. It's like you're walking into an antique shop and saying ‘wow, everything here's fuckin’ old’.”

_“Shane-”_

“You went inside a Waffle House and asked why God wasn't in there with you. There's some things you just have to accept, Ryan.”

_“I get it, jeez. What I'm trying to build up to is, it turns out the lady who runs it is a fan.”_

“A- what, of Unsolved?”

_“Yep.”_

“Okay. That is weird.”

_“Well, her kid watches us, and she was introduced to us through him.”_

“I guess that's fair. I just thought buying something from a fan would feel, I dunno, awkward.”

_“Oh, it was. I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, honestly, but I think I got a good deal, so- anyway. We're still doing the gift exchange at night on the 25th, right?”_

“Uh… yeah. Nine o’clock still?”

_“Nine o’clock still.”_

“My place?”

_“Your place.”_

“Okay. I'll see you then, I guess. You and your weird little occult present.”

_“Yeah. Merry Christmas, man.”_

They said their goodbyes, then hung up. Shane took one more look in the mirror. It’s for the best, he reminds himself. He’d rather have Ryan. 

* * *

Shane stayed home on Christmas Day. He spent most of it scrolling through twitter, typing up scripts, and looking for channels that weren’t playing _A Christmas Story_ for twenty-four hours straight (and he thought Hell had harsh forms of torture). In the spirit of the season, he was wearing the single ugliest Christmas sweater he could find. The most despicable tailors in Hell couldn’t knit something so garish. 

The Hotdaga shirt still hadn't come in; apparently it was being delivered via the Pony Express. So - and this isn't something you get to say often - going to Hell really worked out in the end. 

Shane wondered what Ryan had got for him. If it really was from that “Metaphysical Materials” place, what kind of metaphysical material would it be? Healing crystals? Sage to burn? Or- oh man, wouldn’t it be something if Ryan got _him_ some holy water? 

Of course, Shane couldn’t bring himself to mind if Ryan got him nothing. He would be content just seeing Ryan’s eyes light up with joy, his face split with a sunshine smile… fuck, Shane had it bad. So bad. But he could live with this. He had to live with this. Much as he - goddamnit, he was actually going to say this - _loved_ Ryan, he had to be a realist. He was perfectly fine, he told himself, just keeping their friendship the way it was. 

And he was mostly telling the truth. 

A few minutes past nine, there was a knock at Shane’s door. He opened it to find Ryan standing in wait, one hand holding a gift bag and the other balled up into a fist. 

“Now,” said Shane as Ryan settled in, “I did order something for you that was supposed to arrive last week, but it hasn’t come in yet. So if it ever sees the light of day, I’ll get it to you the first chance I get.”

“Hm-hm.”

“But I did manage to find something else for tonight that’s, uh- up your alley.”

They joked around for a few minutes, partaking in their usual form of banter. It calmed Shane’s nerves, hearing Ryan laugh and quip and just plain talk. Cliche as it was, his heart felt full. Maybe even full enough to fill the space his horns left behind. The years it would take for them to grow back might not feel so long, if only he got to spend them with Ryan. But then again, why would he want time to pass by quickly if it was time spent by Ryan’s side? 

And from somewhere in the dark recesses of Shane’s mind came another little jolt of guilt. If Ryan knew the truth, he wouldn’t want to spend any time together at all. 

“Hold on,” said Shane. “I’ll grab your present.” Making sure Ryan had his holy water should bring the guilt down. 

He picked up the gift bag, hands tingling at its touch. It was as if a few molecules of the water had seeped through the glass and the paper, electrifying Shane’s skin to a point where it didn’t hurt but was impossible to ignore. 

“I can’t believe I got this,” he said as he brought the gift in, “but hey. You’ll find it handy.”

He handed the bag over to Ryan, who handed him a bag in return. Inside it was an inordinate amount of red tissue paper, and Shane couldn’t guess what item hid beneath it besides ‘eh, it doesn’t feel like clothes’. 

“You go first.”

Ryan went about opening his gift without any comment. The crinkling of paper was all that filled the air. Until all the paper was gone, and Ryan’s smile came back. 

“Is this- no way.” He pulled the bottle out, reading the label. “Oh my god, Shane. I- I mean, thanks, I just didn’t think you were the kind of person to give this stuff away.”

“Well, I know how attached you are to your little holy super soaker. Thought you’d get some peace of mind from having some high-grade ammo for it.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“I care about your imagined safety, Ryan.”

"I- I know. And thank you. It’s just…” He trailed off into laughter for a moment. Weird. Yeah, pretending to be this indulgent with Ryan’s beliefs was a bit out of character, but it wasn’t _that_ funny. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan continued. “But I can’t really use this.”

“Wha-” Fuck. Okay. This was _not_ within the realm of expected possibilities. “Why?”

“It’s, uh… remember the lady who ran the shop I went to? I said she was a fan?”

“Yes?”

“See, she gave me this deal where she wouldn’t charge me any money for the gift I bought if I traded it for my ‘famous holy water gun’, so… yeah.”

Oh. _Oh. Well, that was just fine and dandy,_ thought Shane as his heart sank to the floor. He literally went to Hell and back for this thing, and Ryan can’t even use it. Fucking spendid. All that for nothing. Like friggin’ Sisyphus. Ryan was down a safety measure, Shane was down an intimidation method, and they were one investigation gone wrong from Shane losing his best-friend-and-a-little-something-more in the world-

“So,” said Ryan. “You gonna open your thing?”

Oh. Right. Shane had a gift to open. What was it? Who the fuck knew? Certainly not Shane, he couldn’t count on anything anymore! So, with a heart racing like a mouse and hands shaking like he was trying to do brain surgery in the middle of an Antarctic blizzard, he pulled most of the tissue paper away to reveal… metal. Bended metal. 

But the cornucopia-like shape of it, the particular way it was bended… no. It couldn’t be? Could it? To be on the safe side, he used the tissue paper like a potholder, not letting his bare hand touch the thing. Or things; he quickly noticed that there were two bended-metal-things in the bag. When he pulled them out, he noticed tiny engravings in the metal, little letters he couldn’t quite make out. 

“She called them ‘horn ornaments’. Said they were like earrings or hair accessories, but, y’know, for horns. Um, apparently they’re supposed to be ‘semi-corporeal’, so if you touch them, they, uh…”

Shane turned the ornaments around so that Ryan couldn’t see them behind the tissue paper. He touched a single finger to one of them - it vanished right before his eyes. He removed the finger, and it popped back into existence. No fucking way. 

“Does it work?”

Ryan said it with the softest voice Shane had heard in a while. It was small, uncertain. And Shane wanted so badly to rush over and hug him, if not to comfort Ryan than to comfort himself, because if Ryan knew what Shane thought he knew, he needed all the comfort in the world. 

“Shane. Will they fit?”

Every ounce of effort fell off Shane’s shoulders. The jig was up. Everything was over. There was no point in pretending anymore. 

“How long have you known?”

“A week. I’ve had the feeling for a while now. But I only took it seriously when I saw something in the footage from that haunted mafia shoot. Once I found that, a lot of other things started falling into place.”

Shane’s heart lay in sixty shattered pieces in the floor. At this point, he was begging for the rejection to come out, for this to be over already. After all these years of lying, maybe it’s what he deserved. 

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering. “I should have told you a long-”

“Yeah, you should have. You should have, and I should have made it easier. So I… I’m sorry, too.”

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you.”

Fuck. All of the ‘all demons are evil’ comments came rushing back to him all at once. They hurt, of course they hurt. But Ryan wasn’t freaking out, hadn’t pulled out the holy water - hell, he’d gotten rid of his main anti-demon weapon - so did they… did they not matter anymore? 

“Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Ryan shuffled in his seat. 

“You never gave me a reason to be afraid. I mean, when I found out at first, I was scared shitless. But then I figured, uh. You’ve had plenty of chances to eat my soul over the years, but here I am. Really, you’ve always been more of a hum- a living safety blanket for me. Finding out you’ve had horns this whole time is only going to change so much.”

And following in the footsteps of the being-human act, years’ worth of dread and anxiety began to slip out of Shane’s chest. 

“I don’t think the hornaments are going to make up for much," said Ryan, "but... you want to see if they fit?”

_“Hornaments?”_

“What? It works!”

“I know, it’s jus- I wouldn’t-” Shane broke down in giggles. All the fear came crashing down, and in the wake of relief it left, Shane couldn’t stifle his joy at even the dumbest things. 

“Well, are you gonna try them on, or not?”

It was then that Shane remembered that no, he could not. And he broke down laughing all over again. 

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t- I… the guy I got the holy water from wouldn’t sell it unless I traded it for my…”

Shane managed to release the tension around his forehead, relaxing, until the stumps that were once his horns were made manifest. 

He watched Ryan’s eyes widen as the irony settled in for both of them. Here they were, a demon and a human, sitting in a room with gifts that, in their respective gift-getting quests, they’d rendered useless. It was poetry made real. And soon enough, they were both wheezing their lungs out. 

“Son of a-” Shane managed to get out. “We really fucked ourselves over this time, didn’t we?”

“I know!”

“And you know what the worst part is?”

“W-what?”

“I think the hornaments would have been a perfect fit.”

If Shane hadn’t known Ryan for the past few years, he would have thought that a wheeze that prolonged and strong was grounds for taking the little guy to the hospital. 

“You fucking- Oh my god, I love you, I…”

The wheezing stopped there. Time itself stopped there. Ryan’s cheeks began to flush. And Shane’s weren’t far behind. 

“I-” Ryan shrugged. “Seems like we’re both letting secrets out today.” 

Shane wasn’t entirely certain of what happened next. But he was mostly sure that he dropped everything, made his way over to Ryan, and before either of them could get a word out, their lips were pressed up against each other’s. It probably didn’t last as long as it felt. ‘Soft’ was the only word in Shane’s head when they parted. 

Ryan’s wide eyes stared up at Shane’s own, those dark brown irises that Shane could get lost in taking up all of his attention. 

“So, uh...” asked Ryan, “I guess things worked out in the end, huh?”

Shane answered with another kiss. Ryan pulled him closer, their bodies smushing against each other in a mess of giggles and sweaters and holiday cheer. The presents were forgotten - they didn’t matter to them anymore. All the boys cared about in the moment was celebrating this mother of all happy accidents. The rest could wait until the morning.


End file.
